


Please Don't Take My Sunshine Away

by carefully_crafted_cliches



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Non-Famous, Angst, Dark Harry, Dubious Consent, Dubious Morality, Emotional Manipulation, Kidnapped Niall, Kidnapping, M/M, Manipulative Harry, Niall-centric, Obsessive Harry, POV First Person, POV Niall Horan, Power Imbalance, Romance, Stockholm Syndrome, Unhealthy Relationships, Unreliable Narrator, actually i haven't decided if i'm going to continue this or just leave it as a oneshot, depends on if anyone likes it i guess, it is only portrayed as true love by Niall who is not in a healthy frame of mind, it might end with niam or something i haven't decided yet, the main relationship in this story is incredibly unhealthy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-12-17
Updated: 2015-12-17
Packaged: 2018-05-07 05:12:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,869
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5444510
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/carefully_crafted_cliches/pseuds/carefully_crafted_cliches
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Do you think I poisoned your mind? That I manipulated you into loving me?” Even after all this time, it’s hard for me to read his emotions. I can’t tell if he’s genuinely curious, or expecting a certain answer.</p><p>“No,” I reply, this time with the tiniest bit of hesitancy. Hopefully he doesn’t notice. “I think… you just loved me until I finally realised I loved you back.”</p><p>.</p><p>Or the one where Niall has Stockholm Syndrome, and even with his kidnapper in prison, he's far from free - but he's not sure he ever wants to be.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Please Don't Take My Sunshine Away

**Author's Note:**

> I normally laugh at the idea of Dark Harry because he is such a sweet little muffin, but I wanted to try it out anyway. And then this happened. This story involves kidnapping and all the emotional manipulation, obsession, etc that comes with that. Niall and Harry's completely unhealthy relationship is only romanticized because Niall is the narrator. 
> 
> I rarely write in 1st person, but I felt it would work best for this particular story. I hope you enjoy a peak inside Niall's mind.

Stockholm Syndrome ( _n_ ) – the psychological tendency of a hostage to bond, identify, or sympathize with his or her captor.

 

=.=.=.=.=

 

“They hate that I’m seeing you.”

Vivid. Harry’s eyes used to be _vivid_. They were like a forest, beautiful and mysterious and endless and _alive_. Now, the eyes that stare back at me through the plexiglass window are a dull, lifeless green – like dying grass.

I wonder, are my eyes just as empty? I haven’t really _looked_ at myself in long time. Without any conscious decision on my part, I’ve been avoiding mirrors. Because I know my skin is pale now, and my hair is messy, and there are dark bags under my eyes, and I’ve lost too much weight to be healthy. I look like a walking corpse. The rest of me looks dead – I don’t see why my eyes would escape that fate. But I don’t want to check and confirm my suspicions.

Maybe I just don’t like the way I look without him by my side.

I don’t want to think my eyes are dull and lifeless now, because he’s always said he loves my eyes. Bright blue, like the sky on a warm summer day, he says. He says they sparkle when I smile or laugh, and they shine when I’m angry or on the verge of tears, and cloud over when I’m hurt or confused; they’re clear but deep, and reflect my emotions so clearly for anyone who knows me well enough. And Harry certainly knows me well enough. I think he’s the only person who _really_ knows me, now.

My eyes were what made him notice me, actually.

Would he notice this new me, now? If I had looked like this the first time he saw me? Or would he just pass me by, never giving a second thought to the pale boy with the lifeless eyes?

Would I want him to notice me?

He once said he was sorry for ruining my life. But I don’t think he did. I think he just altered its course. He’s certainly _changed_ me, but I couldn’t say for sure that he’s ruined me. Separation from him is ruining me now. I can’t imagine if a world where I never knew Harry would be better or worse, because I can’t imagine my world without him, period.

These weekly visits are the only things that keep me going – well, the visits and the knowledge that he’ll one day be free of this place. And we can go back to that little cottage that at some point become _home_. Or we can go to LA or Bermuda; he’s always wanted to visit those warm, sunny havens. He’ll want to take me to Australia, I’m sure, because he knows that I’ve dreamed of visiting the island continent and he’s always wanted to cuddle a koala.

When he’s let free, I’ll finally be free. And I haven’t been free in so long I can hardly remember what freedom feels like.

“Niall,” Harry’s deep, husky voice breaks me out of my thoughts. “Where were you just now?”

I can only manage a pitiful, “Huh?”

He smiles – just a tiny quirk of his full, dark lips, but it’s something. “You were staring off at nothing for a few minutes. What were you thinking about?”

I think for a second before replying, “Bermuda. Australia. Los Angeles. Home.”

The smile is gone, but there’s a gentle look about him now, like he’s soft around the edges. “We’ll get there, someday. Trust me.”

“Always,” I say without hesitation. Because it’s true. I trust him with my entire being – mind, body, and soul, I am his and I know he will lead me in the right direction. I’ve never trusted someone as completely as I trust him.

He smiles again, crookedly, and my heart beats faster. The rapid beat seems to fill my head _._ “ _Good_.”

It’s silent for a couple minutes. He stares at me evenly and I try to get my heart under control. It’s hard when every look from him still sends it racing. I can’t wait for the day he’s free and his eyes, his stunning eyes, are alive again. He’ll just be even more breathtaking.

After I’ve finally gained at least some control over my physical reaction to him, I say, “They won’t understand.”

“Who won’t?”

“Everyone,” I say. “My parents, my brother, my therapists, Liam, the media. Just. Everyone. They’ll all think I’m crazy for leaving with you again.” _Willingly this time, though._

He leans back in his chair and pins me with a piercing stare. “Does it matter what they think?” he asks coolly.

“No,” I reply, again without hesitance. “They just… they say you poisoned me.” He cocks one thick but nicely groomed eyebrow. How he keeps his eyebrows so nice in prison, I’ll never understand. “Not literally or, er, physically I guess. Like, my mind. They think you poisoned my mind when I was with you. _Made_ me love you and trust you. They keep calling it Stockholm Syndrome.”

I’m growing to hate those two words, to be honest. I hear them nearly every day. From lawyers and psychologists and my family and the media. “Classic case of Stockholm Syndrome.” They all say that. They think they can “fix” me. I just want to tell them one thing; there’s a lot wrong with me, many things about me that are broken – but my love for Harry is _not_ one of those things.

“Do you think I poisoned your mind? That I manipulated you into loving me?” Even after all this time, it’s hard for me to read his emotions. I can’t tell if he’s genuinely curious, or expecting a certain answer.

“No,” I reply, this time with the tiniest bit of hesitancy. Hopefully he doesn’t notice. “I think… you just loved me until I finally realised I loved you back.” No one had ever loved me the way Harry did. It was almost breathtaking sometimes, back at the cabin, when I’d catch him watching me with this absolutely _enraptured_ look on his face. I’d never been so cherished before.

He smiles again, wide and obvious this time, and my smile mirrors his; I’ve said the right thing.

“It’s hard here, without my personal sun,” he says suddenly, and my heart throbs.

_He misses me, too._

Objectively, I know he misses me. This separation must be terrible for him – after all, he loved me first. Loved me enough to need to take me away. But even though I know he must miss me, it's still nice to be reminded. Sometimes it's just so hard to believe that someone as incredible as him loves someone as ordinary as me.

“It’s hard for me, too,” I tell him. “I don’t even know what to do without you.”

“I’ll be out soon, love,” he assures. “Two more years. Until then, wait for me?”

“You know I always will. I’d wait for you for two or twenty or two hundred years,” I promise. And it’s the truth. Even in this short conversation, I can already feel myself brightening, coming alive in a way I never am when I’m not with him. Like I said, these conversations keep me going. I think they do the same for him.

“I love you,” he says gently, and I repeat the sentiment. “I can’t wait to hold your hand again, my little sunshine. I want to see if your skin is as soft as I remember.”

“I want to touch your hair,” I tell him. “I miss those stupid curls.”

He laughs – short, deep, quiet, more like a chuckle really. Not the barking laugh that I fell in love with. I’ve missed his laugh. I’ve missed everything about him.

“You’re dying your hair again,” he notes. I tug self-consciously at my bleach-blond hair. “I like it. You look even more like the sun now.” I can’t help it; I blush. I always do when Harry compliments me. “Oh, don’t get sunburnt now.” 

“You’re ridiculous,” I laugh.

“Admit it, you miss my terrible jokes.”

“That might be the only part of you that I don’t miss,” I tease, smirking coyly. But he knows I miss every bit of him, even the stupid jokes.

A little buzzer sounds, signaling we have five minutes until our visit is through. I have to swallow back the sudden lump in my throat.

“Don’t cry, love,” he coos. “You’ll see me next week.”

“I hate this place,” I spit. “I hate only being allowed to see you once a week. I hate not having your arms around me. I hate the lawyers that put you here and everyone who’s trying to keep me away from you.” My voice breaks, “Can we just run away from the world?”

“Soon, love, soon,” he sooths. “Just be patient. I hate this too, but when I’m free, we’ll leave behind this country and all its horrid people. We’ll travel the world and never worry about a thing because we’ll have each other.”

My voice is barely even a whisper when I respond. “That sounds perfect.”

“Smile for me, love,” he says, putting his hand up to the glass. I press my hand on the same spot, but the clear wall is still separating us. I want him to thread his fingers through mine again. I want to hold onto his hand like I used to; like it was the only thing keeping my feet on this earth. His hands are so big, and always so warm around mine – but now all I feel is cool glass.

“I’m trying,” I tell him. “But it’s so hard.”

“Would you feel better if I sang to you, love?” he offers, his eyes shining. “Just like back at the cabin.” I nodded mutely, waiting with baited breath to hear his deep, velvety, enthralling voice.

I am not disappointed. 

 _“You are my sunshine, my only sunshine_  
_You make me happy when skies are grey_  
_You’ll never know, dear, how much I love you_  
_So please don’t take my sunshine away_

 _“The other night, dear, as I lay sleeping_  
_I dreamt I held you in my arms_  
_When I awoke dear, I was mistaken  
__So I hung my head, and I cried.”_  

 _Me too,_ I think. It seems I haven’t stopped crying since I was ripped away from him. He repeats the chorus and my fingers grip the glass, wishing he could hold me like he used to back home when he would sing me this song.

_“I’ll always love you and make you happy.”_

_I know_ , I mouth.

_“If you will only say the same_  
_But if you leave me to love another  
_ _You’ll regret it all one day._

“ _You are my sunshine, my only sunshine_  
_You make me happy when skies are grey_  
_You’ll never know, dear, how much I love you_  
_So please don’t take my sunshine away"_

Harry’s beautiful voice dropped to nearly a whisper as a finished the song he used to sing to me in our little cabin, our home, before I’d been ripped away from him, before he’d been arrested, before the little world he’d crafted for us had fallen apart.

_“Please don’t take my sunshine away.”_

**Author's Note:**

> If people like this and I continue the story, it will switch between the present day, and back when Niall was kidnapped and with Harry. It might not switch every chapter though.
> 
> Please let me know what you thought - if you liked, hated it (ok maybe just ignore all this if you hated it), want me to continue, want me to leave it as a oneshot - all that. Thanks for reading :)


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